Back Chat
by NaiveEve
Summary: Oneshot. Cameron serves it back to House. Alternative responses for Cameron, during selected conversations with House.


There are so many times when Cameron doesn't get a chance to defend herself, or talk back to House, but you can just imagine what she's thinking. Here are some of the responses Cameron should have made. (Well, this is what I would have said to him if I was in her shoes!)

Obviously, half of these words are not mine - they are transcribed straight from the program. I don't own House, and all the rest of it…

**Back Chat**

**The Date: ****(Love Hurts)**

With her legs crossed neatly at her ankles, her elbows resting on the table, the smell of the corsage – his gift to her, wafting up from her chest, and the delicate dangle of her mother's antique pearl earrings at her neck, she feels pretty and confident.

'I have one evening with you. One chance,' she says, 'and I don't want to waste it talking about what wines you like or what movies you hate. I wanna know how you feel…about me.'

House pauses, raises his eyebrows and gives a quick nod.

'You live under the delusion that you can fix everything that isn't perfect. That's why you married a man who was dying of cancer. You don't love. You need. And now that your husband is dead, you're looking for your new charity case. That's why your going out with me. I'm twice your age, I'm… not great looking, I'm not charming, I'm not even nice. What I am, is what you need. I'm damaged.'

He hardly looks at her as he speaks these words.

Cameron takes a deep breath. She looks around – throws a quick glance over each shoulder and hails the drinks waiter. The man, dressed in black and wearing a white apron, quickly moves to the table.

'Hi,' she says, 'we're _definitely_ going to need something to drink.'

She looks at House, 'What do you drink? Red? White?'

He doesn't answer.

'Just bring us your best bottle of white…quickly please,' she says to the waiter, who replies: 'certainly,' before taking two steps backwards and retreating to the bar.

'My god,' she says, casting her eyes upon House again, 'that was intense. You're certainly out of your element…'

Before he has a chance to respond, the drinks waiter returns with the bottle of wine.

'_Thankyou,'_ she says, as if she has been stranded in a desert for days on end, and this man has just presented her with a litre of sparkling spring water.

The waiter fills each of their glasses before retreating once more.

'To honesty,' she says, raising her glass.

Hesitantly, House raises his glass to hers.

_Chink._

'Now,' she says, taking a sip, 'would you just _relax, geez!_'

'I…' he starts to talk, but is cut short by the determined woman sitting opposite him.

'Ok,' she says, 'here's a warning – I'm going to broach the subject again, because I wasn't satisfied with your response, so take a deep breath.'

He raises his eyebrows.

'I asked you how you _feel_ about _me_,' she says, 'not what you _think_ about me, or what you think I think about _you_. So I'll ask again, how do you _feel_ about me?'

**House the Petulant Patient: (****No Reason)**

She sits by his bedside, quite calm and composed – reading.

He presses his hand to his cheek and rubs his palm over his chin before looking at her.

'You're pathetic,' he says, 'judging by the growth, I'd say I've been unconscious for two days. You've been sitting there the whole time.'

She holds her breath. The moment he wakes, the same old sour remarks spill from his petulant mouth.

'No,' she says simply.

'Judging by the oily build up in your hair, I'd say you're lying,' he says.

Sometimes, she just wants to _hit_ him.

She leans close to him.

'No honey, I've been taking turns with the crowds of people who have been in and out of this room,' she says, serving him a fresh slice of his own brand of biting sarcasm.

'An endless entourage of your friends, family and loved ones,' she continues, 'can't you see all of the cards and flowers and balloons? They _just couldn't bear_ to leave your side, but I insisted that they step out for some fresh air, and you happened to come to while I was in the room.'

She stands and casts him a cold stare before turning on her heal and leaving the room.

**House the Petulant (and mobile) Patient: ****(No Reason)**

'You can't just be walking around,' Cameron says, following a hospital gown adorned, bare legged, bare-foot House out into the hall.

'Well, then, stop me,' he counters.

'You've lost blood…'

'Physically, stop me.'

'You could damage…'

'You can't,' he taunts her, 'because that would involve touching me and then things would get so sexually charged…'

She grips his arm.

'I'd grab you by the balls if it'd make you get back in bed,' she says.

'I'm twice your size,' House says, 'get your hands off me.'

'What are you gonna do?' Cameron teases, '_manhandle_ me?'

**Downright Nasty House: ****(Need to Know)**

'So ultrasound her uterus this time. See if there's something growing in there that doesn't look adorable in a onesie,' House says, as his subordinates make their move to exit the room.

'Cameron…' he calls.

She pauses, turns back to face him.

'I love you,' he says, with mock sincerity and vulnerability.

She folds her arms in front of her.

_Pig_, she thinks.

Mouth closed, lips pursed firmly together, she scoffs.

'Fuck you,' she spits.

And it is so simply crass, that it is _perfect_.

She sidles out through the doorway, laughing to herself.


End file.
